Lover's Walk: Advice for the Under 30 Crowd
by fashiongrrl
Summary: Buffy is an advice columnist, and goes by the pseudonym Joan Winters for her "Lover's Walk" column. How can someone so burned by love possibly write a relationship column? Will she really ever find true love or just settle? Enter Spike. Hijinks ensue.
1. Dear Joan

**A/N:**  Hi there!  I know I shouldn't be starting another story with "Battle of the Bands" still swimming around out there, but hey it's okay.  I'm allowed to play with these characters, Joss said it was okay!  Um, okay maybe that was a dream, but it sure looked like Joss.  Could've been the First though, just messing with my head.  By the way, all apologies to US columnist Carolyn Hax who actually does write a witty column called "_Tell Me About It: Advice for the Under-30 Crowd._"

Anyways, the inspiration for this story came from my bestest friend in the whole world, Enjanerd.  She gives great advice, and I told her she should start an advice column on her blog and so she did (this week), just for fun.  And one day I actually happened to be sitting in front of my computer eating Ben and Jerry's, and one day I did have silver hoops on, and one day I did attempt to paint my fingernails Punk Rock Purple, without much success, and one day I did try to tune out "America's Top Model," so I figured it'd make a cool opener for the story.

**Summary: **Buffy Summers is an aspiring journalist working for the _LA Daily Tribune's_ "Life and Leisure" section.  She's one of the most talented staff writers, but has a new job on her plate: the advice column _"Lover's Walk: Advice for the Under-30 Crowd"_ or more commonly known under the pseudonym of _"Dear Joan."_  After being burned in a series of relationships, Buffy no longer believes in love, but a job is a job.  Along comes Spike, unaware of Buffy's secret identity and hijinks ensue.  Will she find love in the most unlikely of places?

**Dedications:** This one is for Enjanerd.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.  BTVS isn't my property.  Everything belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and whoever else is in charge.  I just like to play with the characters like it's one giant game of chess.  (Even though I'm not very good at chess.)

**Distribution: **Ask me first, please?

**Feedback:** Yes!  Great!  Please, sir, can I have some more?  Click that little review button, or drop me a line at s p i k e s f a s h i o n g r r l @ h o t m a i l . c o m (but without the spaces).

Lovers Walk: Advice for the Under-30 Crowd :) 

**by Fashiongrrl**

Chapter 1: Dear Joan :) 

A half-eaten pint of Ben and Jerry's "New York Super Fudge Chunk" sat in front of the blank computer screen.  The radio was currently blasting "It's My Life" by No Doubt, and the owner of a newly painted pair of "Punk Rock Purple" toenails was bouncing along in tune to the music.  The smell of chocolate ice cream blended with the acetone of the nail polish still held precariously in the hands of Buffy Summers.  One shoulder balanced the phone to her perfect blonde head, silver hoops hanging delicately for each ear.  The TV was one mute in the background, as she pretended not to watch the latest episode of "America's Top Model" -- the latest contribution to reality TV drivel.  Various envelopes for her advice column littered the floor, a carton of Chinese takeout was somewhere at hand, and rain pelted the windows of her chic LA apartment.  Buffy was desperately trying to pay attention to anything else other than the blank computer screen and furiously blinking cursor in front of her.  Afterall she was on a deadline, what else was she supposed to do other than procrastinate?

 "IT'S MY LIFE!  Don't you forget!  It's my life!  It never ends!" Buffy sang along to Gwen Stefani's melodious voice.  "Oh sorry, Wills!  I LOVE this song!  I just get so caught up in it."

 "Five dollars says you're dancing around your apartment right now," her best friend Willow Rosenberg said over the phone, trying to stifle a giggle.

 "No, I'm not!  Okay, maybe, yes I am.  But it's a good song!  I can't help it.  'It's my life!  Don't you forget!  Caught in the crowd!  It never ends!'  I should so be a singer!  What am I doing writing this column?"

 "Yeah Buff, keep telling yourself that," came the voice of Xander Harris, Buffy and Willow's other best friend, over the phone as well.  Thank God for conference calling!

 "Hey, so not funny!  I called you guys for help, it's not 'pick on Buffy' day!" Buffy joked.  "Okay, I'm all Serious Writing Gal now.  No more dancing.  Here's the letter I'm having trouble with.  It's from 'Navy Blue in Cali' and I have no idea what to say to this one.  He writes, 'Dear Joan: My good friend Chloe just broke up with her fiance of 2 months.  I've been in love with her since we were 15, but I've never told her because I didn't want to mess up our friendship.  I've always wanted to say something, but I don't think this is the right time.  The only problem is I ship out in 2 weeks and won't be back for 5 months.  I don't want to confuse her or ask her to put her life on hold?  What do I do?'"

 "Okay, why 'Joan' again?" Xander asked.

 "Look we've been through this.  The original Joan -- Joan Winters -- left the _LA Daily Tribune_ at least 20 years ago, and I'm the 6th person to take up her _'Lovers Walk/Dear Joan'_ column.  We've got an image to maintain.  The name comes with the territory," Buffy explained.

 "I still think it's weird.  Hey, my name is Joan, I'm actually not Joan though, I live somewhere else and the real Joan is dead," Xander joked.

 "She's not dead, Xander!" Willow cried.  "The real Joan 'has been retired for fifteen years and living like a queen in Patagonia.'"

 "Oh! Oh!  I know that one!  _The Princess Bride_; the scene where Westley explains how he got the job as the Dread Pirate Roberts!" Buffy said, jumping up and down.

 "Yup!  I couldn't help it, Tara and I watched it last night!" Willow said laughing.

 "Okay back to this guy, what do I tell him to do?  If he tells her he loves her, she's totally going to think he's trying to take advantage of a bad situation here.  She's completely vulnerable right now," Buffy mused.

 "Wait, did she dump him or did he dump her?  Navy Blue makes it sound like she left him?" Xander said.

 "Hey! Kind of like J.Lo dumping Ben," Willow joked.  "Okay, I so need to stop watching 'Entertainment Tonight,' I can't believe Dawn got me hooked on this last time I saw her!"

 Buffy laughed at her friend's predicament.  Her little sister Dawn was known to be a little bit of a celebrity addict and it always seemed to rub off on someone.  "That's what I hate about writing this column.  These people are big with the uncertainty.  The real letter sounds a little different, but I had to edit it for content.  It seems like this guy is concerned because the girl Chloe's fiance seemed abusive?  Only he had a very ugly spin on it, something like 'her fiance is a total dickhead, he was only marrying her so she wouldn't be able to screw anyone else.'"

 "Wow, sounds like Navy Blue and the fiance might be meant for each other instead," Willow said.  "Oh I know!  Tell him he can be perfectly happy finding a hot sailor in the Navy."

 "Yeah, I'll write that and lose my job.  Great idea, knocking the US Navy in a column read by thousands," Buffy said.

 "Hey, what?  Navy guys are hot.  I mean I might be gay, but I'm not blind.  I was straight once.  Xander, if you were gay wouldn't you want a Navy guy?" Willow said.

 "Okay, Wills.  I think I'll have to refer you to 'don't ask, don't tell," for that one right there," Xander quipped.  "I think I'm good without getting it on with a sailor."

 They heard his girlfriend Anya in the background, "What?  Xander Harris, are you going to have an encounter with a hot man and not tell me?!  You'd better be thinking threesome!"

 "Ahn, I think you're enough for me to handle.  More than enough, trust me," Xander called to her.

 "What?  No threesome!  I was looking forward to having another sweaty -- " Ahn shouted back.

 "ANYA!  I'm going to have to beg you not to finish that sentence!" Xander yelled.

 Buffy and Willow couldn't help giggling at Anya's blatantly sexual commentary.  What most would find crude and offensive, they had come to find almost endearing about their no-holds-barred friend.  _Almost_ endearing, _almost._

 "Okay, kind of thinking a world of no on Plan A: get it on with a sailor.  I think I'm going with Plan B," Buffy paused and starting to think and type furiously.  "Dear Navy Blue: Her breakup is recent and she may need some time to heal.  If she's been dumped you don't need to swoop in and save her, because that's what she'll see it as.  You don't want to be her rebound guy.  If she initiated the break up, she might have had cold feet or just needs some 'me' time before she gets involved in a relationship again.  If you really love her, you'll wait.  Let her know you care for her deeply and she means more to you than just a friend, but let her know want to see her happy.  DO NOT profess your love for her.  Let me repeat, DON'T TELL HER YOU LOVE HER otherwise she'll bolt.  Unless you're going into combat, you'll see her in 5 months.  See where it goes from there.  Sometimes the best things are worth waiting for."

 "Not bad, but the last line is kind of cliche," Willow said.

 "I know, but that's what half of this job is about, stupid cliches.  That's how the original Joan wrote, so I've got to keep some of the style.  Afterall, the column isn't called "Ask Buffy," well not yet anyway," Buffy said.

 Just then the phone beeped on Buffy's end.  "Dammit!  I've got another call," Buffy said, glancing at her Caller ID.  "Shit!  It's Giles.  I told him I'd have this on his desk like yesterday, I've got to go guys!  I'll call you tomorrow! Bye!"

 "Bye!" said Willow.

 "Later chicas!" added Xander.

 Buffy hit the Flash button and changed over to the other line, where Rupert Giles, editor of the LA Daily Tribune's "Life and Leisure" section was waiting.

 "Hey Giles!  How's it going?"

 "Good evening, Buffy!  I trust you're almost done with the column?" Giles asked, before she'd been able to say anything else.

 "Yeah, I'm putting the finishing touches on the last letter.  How's this sound?" she said, as she read her work aloud to Giles.

 "Not bad, not bad at all.  In fact I'm impressed.  Although I would have been more impressed if I'd had it by 5," Giles said.

 "Writers block?" Buffy said, with a weak excuse.

 "Is that what they call it these days, Buffy?" Giles joked.  "I know you!  You're probably sitting in front of your laptop eating ice cream and playing games."

 "Why does everyone always predict what I'm doing?  Am I just that predictable?" Buffy wondered to no one in particular.  "Giles, I think you're living in a dream world.  Have you ever seen me play a video game?"

 "No, but I assumed since half of your colleagues do, you might as well.  I will never understand the strange fascination your generation has with those seizure inducing idiot boxes anyways.  Haven't they ever heard of books?  Oh excuse me for a moment will you?  Jenny just stopped by."

 Buffy swore she could hear Giles cleaning his glasses and blushing simultaneously as Fashion editor Jennifer Calendar walked into Giles' office.  She strained to hear the conversation.  Something about... _Oh shit!  The Yves St. Lauren article!_  Oh no, Giles was fuming.  Giles mad was not a good thing, especially since the "Life and Leisure" section had been entered in the National Institute of Journalism's "Lifestyles" section for the style, flair, and life sections of America's newspapers.  So far his biggest competition was Ethan Rayne over at the _Atlanta Gazette_.  Giles couldn't afford to have anything go wrong these days.

 "Buffy! Where the bloody hell is that article for the new Yves St. Lauren collection?!  Jenny said you were supposed to have it in to her this morning!" Giles yelled into the phone.

 "I'm almost done with that one, too!  It'll be on her desk by like yesterday," Buffy said.

 "I think that's because it was due yesterday, Buffy?"

 "La la la, what was that Giles?  Couldn't understand you!" Buffy singsonged.

 "Buffy Summers!  Get those bloody articles on my desk by tomorrow morning or you're fired!"

 "You know, I bet you're extra cute when you're all mad.  Maybe you could go yell at Jenny?  I bet she'd swoon right then and there and ask you out just out of sheer Giles-y cuteness.  And besides Giles, you threaten to fire me every two days, remember?  Wait, no I think last week it was every day!  A new record!  We should celebrate!" Buffy laughed.

 "You're absolutely incorrigible!" came Giles' weak response.

 "Whoa!  I'm really sorry, Giles!  No need to get all scary and uber British on me," Buffy said.

 "I'm sorry, Buffy.  I'm just under a little bit of stress.  I've got some company coming into town and I have a million things on my mind.  I know you do excellent work, but just because you've taken over the 'Dear Joan' column, it doesn't mean you can let your other articles slip.  You're one of our department's best writers, and I recommended you for the job because I know you can handle this," Giles explained.

 "I know, I know Giles!  I promise it'll be in your office before you get there tomorrow," Buffy promised.

 "Very well then, Buffy.  Good night!" Giles said.

 "See you tomorrow, Giles!"

 Buffy turned off the TV, lowered the radio volume, capped the nail polish, put the ice cream in the freezer, cracked her knuckles and sat down to type.  One great fashion article coming up!  Along with one really good advice column.  _One plus one equals really tired Buffy._  It was going to be a long night.

 Buffy Summers wasn't too big on believing in love, and didn't think she ever would be again, so it was rather odd that she was chosen to write an advice column on love, dating, and relationships.  She'd dated Riley for a year before she found out he was cheating on her because he felt that she just didn't love him enough, even though he'd been the one who was never open and honest with her.  Then there was Parker, the "love 'em and leave 'em" type, or in other words, an asshole.  Robin had been really sweet, but after 3 months, Buffy realized he seemed like he was looking for a mother figure more than a girlfriend.  After all that had happened, 25 year old Buffy Summers had finally met the perfect man, handsome, rich, intelligent, kind, considerate, a great cook, and a decent lover.  She had a great life, a great job, great hair, and the greatest guy around, as long as he was somewhere else all the time.  Ever since they'd gotten engaged, she'd felt as if a little piece of her had died.  If she had her way, every person writing to Joan would get something like, _"Give up on love, it's a bitch.  Plus it doesn't exist.  Just settle for security and comfort, that's what I'm about to do."_

 All of a sudden the front door slammed shut and she looked up to see her fabulous fiance walk into her apartment.  He would never know she wasn't in love with him, so she pushed the thoughts of doubt and fear out of her mind.  She got up to embrace him as he walked towards her.

 "Buffy!  I missed you so much today!" he said.

 "Hey, Angel."

 **A/N:** Do bear in mind it's a SPUFFY fic.  So not to worry.  *Spuffy love and Spike-shaped cookies for all*


	2. Vanilla Sky

****** Lovers Walk: Advice for the Under-30 Crowd ****** 

****** **By: Fashiongrrl** ******

******Chapter 2: Vanilla Sky****** 

*beep beep beep beep*

A very groggy Buffy Summers reached over to slam a fist into the alarm.  Poor thing always took such a beating, yet somehow it always managed to wake her up, 6 AM on the dot, every damn morning.  She sat up slowly, yawning and arching her back like a cat.  Buffy glanced over beside her.  There lay her fabulous fiancé, Angel.  Sound asleep, not as easily roused.  He slept like the dead almost, if it weren't for the slight bit of drool hanging from his mouth.  Buffy shook her head, repeating to herself, _It's not gross.  It's just Angel.  It's not gross_.  She hopped out of bed, pulling the covers back up over Angel before she made her way to the bathroom for her morning ritual.

She looked up, taking in the reflection held by the mirror over the sink.  Long blonde hair, desperately in need of a cut she never had time to get.  Brilliant green eyes, long and dark "maybe it's Maybelline" model eyelashes, and cute pink lips.  But of course there were the dark circles, hanging under those brilliant green eyes.  And that one monthly blemish, marring one cheek.  She smiled, flashing her teeth, then stuck her tongue out, making faces at the mirror.  She sighed, "good morning Buffy," time to get to work and write about everyone else's beautiful, dysfunctional, vibrant lives.

Angel had come over last night.  She'd worked on her column, finishing it up.  Being her fiancé, he knew of her identity, as did Willow and Xander.  Other than Giles and a few select people at work, no one else was supposed to know she was the Joan Winters.  She'd finished up the column and Angel had sat down to watch "Nightly News with Tom Brokaw" at exactly 6:30 PM like he did every weekday night.  He'd shushed her when Tom began speaking after the commercial breaks, grunting a slight laugh whenever Brokaw said anything he found amusing.  Angel would comment on the news stories, giving his own legal opinions, since he was a lawyer for the prestigious LA firm, Wolfram and Hart.

It wasn't that Angel was an ass, so much as he was vanilla -- and not as in ice cream.  Every day the same show, every day the same lawyer talk over dinner.  He was a good man, helping the helpless, always putting his neck out for others.  Yet he'd never look into his own life.  He was at best, simple.  If Buffy was smiling, it would obviously mean everything was okay.  If she wasn't smiling, he's ask.  He'd ridicule the reason and tell her that everything in life was always black and white, no shades of color.  Either you're happy and everything is okay, or you're not and you get over whatever ails you and then you're happy again.  Simple, simple, simple.  

To Angel, life was binary: you're right or you're wrong, you're good or you're evil, you're nice or you're mean, you're happy or you're sad, you're working or you're lazy, and so on and so forth.  Of course he loved Buffy, but he didn't need to tell her every night, when she's ask.  His response would be "You know I love you, how couldn't I?  You're wonderful, and I'm supposed to love you."  And she'd ask, "Yes, but why do you love me Angel?"  And he'd always answer, "What kind of a question is that?  Why?  Because I just do.  What's with all the emotions today?"

And so that's how life went.  He'd come over after work on most days, she's finish up her work, he'd watch the news, and she'd partake in whatever "Must See TV" was on.  Dinnertime, perhaps the most imaginative he'd ever get.  Then they'd make love, he'd tell her she was beautiful or gorgeous; always those two words.  Never anything new, but at least it was something.  And it was comfortable, so Buffy didn't question.  She accepted.  She could definitely do comfortable.  At 25, if she had comfortable, at least she had something.  Then it'd be time for bed.  He'd fall asleep within seconds, Buffy would be up for an hour reading before she finally drifted off.  The alarm would ring.  He didn't have to be up until 7 AM, she'd head to the bathroom, and the morning ritual would begin.

Jolted out her thoughts she quickly brushed her teeth, washed her face with some special girly foaming facial wash, and jumped into the warmth of the shower.  Hot water cascading down, almost scalding her skin.  But it was something, it was a feeling.  It was real, it was tactile, it wasn't binary.  Most days Buffy just wanted to feel.  Something, anything, didn't matter what.  She just wanted to feel.

She stood in front of her closet, wondering what her mood was today.  Buffy decided to skip the casual slacks and shirt for one day.  She wasn't in the mood for casual Friday.  Instead she opted for a comfy yet stylish white cableknit sweater, an A-line gray skirt that flared at the knee, and a pair of long black high-heeled boots.  She added some black dangly earrings to the ensemble, snapped on the requisite watch every working girl needs, threw on some natural makeup (eyeliner and a bit of lipstick), and grabbed her coffee.

Drinking it down, she looked over her column with a final discerning eye.  She looked over the last letter.  Buffy had responded to the advice in 5 minutes, knowing exactly what to say this time.  But she had to make sure it was perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Joan:

I've been dating "Mark" for about 5 months now.  He's very caring and considerate, loves going shopping, helps me around the house, and has a great eye for style.  Last week we went out to dinner, and without thinking I made a comment about how cute our waiter was.  I was afraid Mark would be mad and get jealous like most guys.  But he actually agreed with me and commented on how good the waiter looked from the back.  A few nights later Mark asked me if I would mind involving another man in our lovemaking.  I confronted him about the possibility that he's gay, and he broke down crying and told me that he thinks he is too.  Joan, I really love this guy.  Is there any way I could get him to fall for me again?

-Straight Eye for the Queer Guy

_Dear SEQG:_

Honey, I hate to break it to you.  Mark is gay.  He likes the boys, just like you.  Now take a deep breath, and say it slowly.  "Mark.  Is.  Gay." Good!  Still breathing right?  There's nothing on this earth that you can do to "de-gay" him.  If you're thinking that you had something to do with this, you're wrong.  You can't turn a person gay, and from what it sounds like, you two had a compassionate and strong relationship.  You did everything you could, and it's not your fault.  You didn't do anything wrong, and you didn't make him fall out of love with you.  He's not the right man for you, and you're definitely not the right man for him.  Why involve yourself in a relationship where you're not going to get the love and intimacy you truly deserve.  You and Mark both owe it yourselves to be happy.  You may not see my point right now, but give it time and you'll understand.  In the meantime, you may have gained a good guy-pal.  Things may not be all "Will and Grace" right away, but in the end this might turn out to be a good thing.  Above all, remember you're beautiful as you are, and the right man is definitely out there waiting for you.

_-Joan_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy had read that letter and sworn this could be a page right out of her life.  The thing about writing an advice column, 25% of the scenarios she came across were outrageous, 25% were plausible, and 50% were things that could happen to just about anybody and probably already had.  Buffy read the last line over again, and laughed in spite of herself.  The "right man," she thought, shaking her head.  A myth like the vampires and werewolves.  Those things didn't exist.  Oh well, another day on the job, another happy reader.

**_*Flashback* Junior Year, Sunnydale High School, Spring 1996_**

_Buffy was walking down the hallway, stylishly dressed in a short plaid skirt, v-neck sweater, thigh-high socks straight out of "Clueless" and high heeled Mary Janes.  She looked up to see her then boyfriend Scott Hope coming towards her, a serious look on his face._

_"Hey Scott!" Buffy said cheerfully._

_"Hi honey," Scott responded absent mindedly, watching the football team walk by._

_"What's with the 'All My Children' face?  Who died?" Buffy joked._

_"Hmm?  Oh nothing.  I'm fine.  Hey listen, could we skip the Bronze tonight?  Would you mind if we just went out for a drive?" he asked._

_"Not a problem!  Oooh, we could talk about Prom!  I was talking to Willow and Xan, and we were thinking of getting a limo together," Buffy replied._

_"Yeah, sounds great.  I'll pick you up around 7?" Scott said, grazing her cheek with his lips in a poor excuse for a kiss.  "I've got to run.  I can't be late to gym."_

_'That's weird,' Buffy thought.  'Since when does he like going to gym?  He's always finding ways to skip unless they're playing tackle football or something.'_

_Later that evening Scott picked Buffy up.  They drove around Sunnydale for a bit in silence, before finally stopping on Buffy's street.  Then Scott turned to her and, "Buffy, we need to talk."_

_Damn, those 4 words can stop someone's blood cold._

_And that night, Buffy had ice in her veins.  We need to talk, he'd said.  And talk they did.  Scott began crying and rambling.  He told Buffy how he'd been feeling isolated and different from everyone else for the past year.  He'd been trying to suppress these feelings for so long, knowing they weren't right.  His dad might hate him, he wasn't sure yet.  His mom and his brother would understand in time.  But he wasn't even sure if he did.  He was hoping that by liking Buffy it would all turn out okay.  _

_Up to that time, Buffy had been trying to follow Scott, but to no avail.  As soon as Scott told her that he'd hoped everything would be okay once they started dating, it fell into place.  She looked over at him, took his hand and encouraged him to go on.  Her first serious boyfriend, and he was about to break up with her, but seeing the broken and scared look in Scott's eyes, she didn't have the heart to start subjecting him to the pain he'd probably get as soon as the closet doors opened in public.  At least her mother had raised her to be kind, but dammit, what a time to be nice.  Break ups are messy, and Buffy learned that first hand that night._

_Scott was gay.  There was nothing she could do about it.  She couldn't do or say anything to make him love her.  She told him it was okay, that they could still be friends in time, but it would take a while to heal.  She needed time to deal with this.  He'd asked if she still wanted to go to the prom, and she said that he should take someone he really wanted to go with.  She'd be fine and so would he._

_She'd learned to be good about hiding her feelings, especially ever since her parents divorce.  They'd had such a strong marriage, and then her father had run off with his secretary leaving Buffy to be the strong one and take care of her mom and her sister Dawn.  Buffy had grown up fast, learning to set aside her own pain in an instant when faced with the unknown.  That night in the car, it was as if she was watching else say those strong and mature words to Scott.  Like watching someone else's nightmare unfold.  Buffy Summers had carefully detached herself in an instant.  No pain in that moment, as she hugged Scott and acted like a good friend should._

_But when Buffy got home that night, she crawled into her bed and cried herself into a dreamless sleep.  Her first love, 16 candles down the drain._

**_*End Flashback*_**

She snapped out of her second daydream of the morning, and look at the time.  7:15 AM.  Buffy grabbed her briefcase, stuffing her purse, her lunch, and her articles and discs inside.  It had to be on Giles's desk before 8 AM.  She snatched her keys off the kitchen table and made sure she had turned the coffee machine off.  One last look to make sure she had everything, and she was out the door.

END CHAPTER 2

_A/N: I hope you liked Chapter 2!  Thanks to alexa19, buffsterangelicxws, Ultrawoman, BrownEyes, Moxie, Harm Marie, Sweet Bitter, Kubla Khun, daniluvsspike, MsBigBad, William's Girl, and whoever posted that anonymous review for your comments!  I'm so glad you guys liked Chapter 1.  I tried a bit of character development in this chapter, so we could all realize why Buffy's outlook on love is so screwed up.  Afterall there's got to be something to fix once she finally meets Spike.  He's got to serve his salty goodness purpose!_

_*Spuffy love and Spike-shaped cookies for all!*_

_Stay tuned for more!  Spike and Buffy meet in Chapter 3!__  *Enter screaming fans.*  Will the sparks fly?  Will they hate each other?  Will they break into song?  Did they really get the mustard out?  Inquiring minds want to know!  I guess you'll just have to wait until Chapter 3._

_(Sorry if the formatting is screwed up, I couldn't figure out why ff.net didn't like MSWord formatting, grr arg!)_


	3. Traffic

**A/N:**  Sorry it took so long for Chapter 3.  As always, thank you duckies for being so patient.  You're all so good to me.  Thanks to Harm Marie, buffsterangelicxws, Spikes-gal787, SweetBitter, Ultrawoman, SpIkEs AnGeL, Ben is Glory, Kubla Khun, and MsBigBad for your reviews!  Yes, I've finally written a Buffy/Spike meet chapter into a story (well aside from my Spuffy one-shot "Dancing")!!!  Buffy's thoughts are interspersed with her actions in this chapter, and sometimes they are in italics and some aren't.  I hope it doesn't get too confusing.  ENJOY! :)

***********************

**Lovers Walk: Advice for the Under-30 Crowd**

**by Fashiongrrl**

**Chapter 3: Traffic**

"The look of love is in your eyes, the look your smile can't disguise," sang Dusty Springfield through the speakers in Buffy's green Jeep as she cruised down the highway.  Making a face, she quickly switched the radio station, "Love, love, love me do," came the strains of the Beatles.  Next channel please.  "Love me tender," sang out Elvis.

"_Okay, can we get out of the 60s for a minute here_?" Buffy thought.  Next channel.

"With or without you..." crooned Bono from U2.

Buffy glanced up to see an advertisement for Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler's latest romantic comedy plastered all over a billboard on the side of the road.  She sighed, reaching to switch the radio station one last time.  Valentine's Day was coming up in a few weeks and the entire world was going crazy.  Love this, love that, love love love love love.  It was a regular lovefest.  A regular flower power hippie crazed love-making and love having good time.  She could almost scream she was so frustrated.  She wasn't feeling the love.

"_What is wrong with me_?" she thought.  Last year Angel hadn't made a big deal about Valentine's Day, knowing it wasn't one of Buffy's most favorite holidays.  This year all of a sudden he wanted to throw an engagement party on that day.  Well to be fair his parents decided to throw one, in 3 weeks.  On Valentine's Day.  Joy.  Wonderment.  Exciting.  Fun times for all.  Everyone and anyone that Angel Fitzpatrick's family knew was invited.  And everyone and anyone Buffy knew was suddenly invited too.  These people were the elite of LA and whatever Angel's parents wanted, Angel's parents got.  Nothing was too good for their little angel and angelic daughter-in-law to-be, puns fully intended.

Buffy kept telling herself it was just cold feet.  "Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Buff," she muttered aloud, switching lanes as she navigated into downtown LA.

Traffic was starting to pick up so she had to concentrate.  There was an accident up ahead and one of the lanes was blocked.  Three lanes of heavy morning traffic were suddenly jammed into two, and everything came to a standstill.  She hadn't intended to move at a snail's pace that morning, since she'd even left a little early for once.  She had maybe 2 miles to go until she hit downtown, but sometimes life sends the unexpected.  Buffy sighed, finally settled on a radio station, and let her mind wander as the cars around her inched by.

She remembered a conversation with Willow over dinner a few nights ago.

***_Flashback to Buffy and Willow a few nights ago over dinner and drinks at Magiano's_ ***

"Why is love this complicated?  Wait, am I making it complicated?  Boy meets girl.  Boy asks girl on date.  Girl says yes.  Boy takes girl out.  Girl doesn't have urge to want to kill a boy on the first date," Buffy joked.

"Buffy, you forgot to add 'Girl stands in front of closet and asks best friend what to wear because she doesn't know if she wants to appear shy, coy, and naïve or unrestrained, insatiable, and aggressive'," Willow continued, reminding Buffy a particularly memorable date she'd had with a boy named Owen.  He'd followed her around the entire night, making doe-eyes at her, believing she was the next best thing to sliced bread.  Buffy liked a doting guy as much as the next girl, but on some level it just got creepy.

"Girl is very grateful to best friend for making sure she didn't walk out of the house looking like a slut," Buffy laughed.

"Darn tootin'!" Willow replied, using one of her favorite phrases.  "You know, Buffy it's... it's not like this is all bad.  Angel will be glued to you the entire night.  It's just one party."

"One party on Valentine's Day.  Are we forgetting that Buffy and Valentine's Day are very unmixy things?" she replied.

Every year on Valentine's Day, something always went wrong without fail.  A few times she had been dateless and that really wasn't a big deal.  But one year she got stood up at a high school Valentine's formal, and one year her car broke down on the way to a date and she was stranded for a few hours.  Then there was the Valentine's Day she walked into a restaurant to see her date kissing another girl, after which she turned and ran out, spraining her ankle as she tripped over her particularly unsteady high heels.  Let's not forget the shining Valentine's Day she and Dawn had to sit through the agony of watching their father get married to his brand new full-of-plastic-chain-smoking-loves-cheap-perfume trophy wife.  Buffy took Dawn and fled before the ceremony ended.  He'd said he wanted them there, but he never paid any attention to his daughters the entire visit, and Buffy gave up trying.  And finally, there was that one year her date ate something that had eggs in it and had an allergic reaction causing his head to swell up to the size of a balloon.  She'd spent that Valentine's Day in the ER.  So Buffy and Valentine's Day tended to be as unmixy as possible.  

"Everything will be perfect this year, I promise," Willow encouraged her friend.

"But what if it isn't?" Buffy worried.

"What's the worst that could happen?  You rip your dress, spill punch on the groom's mother, get really drunk, throw up in the pool, and Angel decides to quit being a lawyer so you both can move to Tahiti while he pursues a career learning to play the bongo drums?"

Buffy couldn't help laughing, "Bongo drums?"

"I'm having an 'I Love Lucy' moment.  Don't tell me you couldn't see Angel going all 'babaloo!  babaloo!'" Willow said.

"Wills, are all you red heads naturally insane?  Or is it something in the water?" Buffy joked, looking at her glass.

"Who said this was water?" Willow giggled, motioning towards the table.

Buffy laughed again before saying, "It doesn't matter anyways, the Fitzpatricks have already set the date, and I don't want to mess up their plans.  It is kind of sweet that they want to do this for me and Angel.  His mother is really excited about planning it."

"See there's always a platinum lining to everything, Buffy.  And hey, I'll be all big with the supportiveness the entire night.  Oooh!  Xander and I can glare down any of Angel's crazy rich relatives that want to come up and kiss the bride-to-be?"

"You guys could be like my ladies in waiting.  Well, sort-of.  If I was a princess?  And if Xander was a lady, and I so don't know where that came out of.  I really don't think they refilled this with water," Buffy laughed.

"Buffy, martini glass, water glass.  Big difference," Willow said, pointing out her friend's not-so-innocent drinks.  She continued, "Well the lady part, I don't think he'd go for.  But I'm sure if we got enough alcohol in him too, we could manage to throw a dress on him?" Willow said.

"I think I'll let that idea pass, Wills," Buffy giggled.  "Although I think Anya might like it..."

"Aww c'mon.  What could be more fun that embarrassing Xander in something pink?  Oh!  Oh!  And frilly?" Willow said, with a completely straight face.

Buffy couldn't take it.  She burst out laughing at the image of manly Xander twirling around drunk in a frothy, frilly, pink dress.  Willow caught her infectious laughter and the two best friends giggled over desert.  Neither could believe that in a few short months Buffy would be Mrs. Angel Fitzpatrick.

Willow knew of Buffy's cold feet, but tried to be as encouraging with her best friend as she could.  Leave it to Willow for the sound advice, telling Buffy to do what she wanted, to be happy, and to follow her heart.  It was a roller coaster of emotions, one that she'd been through herself when she had decided to cement her union to Tara with a commitment ceremony.  She understood the stress of wedding, or at least partially, but no one save Buffy herself really had any idea of how nervous she truly was.

***_End flashback_***

The cars in her lane were finally starting to edge by whatever was blocking traffic up ahead.  She drove by and was surprised to see that it was nothing big.  Just some car the cops had pulled over, probably for speeding.  She glanced at the black vehicle, trying to figure out what it was.  It was vintage or a relic or whatever they called old cars, -- that much she knew.  Buffy didn't have a chance to glance over at the upset driver with the blonde hair.  She thought if the car were shined up it would have looked good.  Angel would probably know, he always knew cars.  She let her thoughts wander back to Angel as she navigated through the heavy LA rush hour.

Buffy had ranted and raved about love before, and how she'd never find that perfect guy.  When she first met Angel, they had been so in love, almost like teenagers.  Her last long term relationship left her scarred after she found her college boyfriend Riley in bed with some goth-vampire-wannabe-ho-bag, a technical term of course.  A few dates here and there, and then almost 2 years ago she met Angel.  They'd been friends first for several months, and she'd thought he was so cute and he'd thought she was so cute and there had been some sparkage.  Yeah, definite sparkage in those first few weeks.

After the first few dates it almost started to die down and Buffy convinced herself that it was just that she was settling into a relationship, like she had done in the past.  She willed herself to stick it out and not run away from this one.  To give love one last chance.  Relationships are always so much more exciting when you're busy dancing around each other, caught in the thrill of the chase, breathless and drowning, ready for more, but there's no commitment yet.  And then you finally cross paths and everything seems right, and those first few moments are magical and tender.

After the initial getting to know you stage, she felt they really started to click.  Buffy was glad she'd opened herself up and given Angel a real chance.  They'd have late night conversations about nothing and everything.  She'd write him little love notes every now and then.  He'd send her flowers for no apparent reason.  Angel was nothing if not a gentleman.  Nights on the town, because he was so refined, so manly, and yes he would even accompany her to the ballet for her sake.

_Or maybe he is just really fond of ballet?_ Buffy thought to herself, chuckling, and breaking up the monotony of the drive for a moment.  She checked her rear-view mirror and some idiot was on her tail.

"Yes, please follow me closely and try to crash into me," she said sarcastically to herself.  More driving, more switching lanes, and there was her exit.  LA DOWNTOWN, right lane, Exit 144.  Half-concentrating on merging into downtown traffic, she was thinking about Angel once again.

Buffy started to fall for him hard.  He seemed so steady, like a rock.  So different from any boyfriend she'd had in the past and Buffy convinced herself this is what she wanted.  She was great at convincing herself of things.

As the year rolled by, the passion seemed to dissipate but the romance was still there underneath it all.  Their relationship was slowly evolving to the next level, and they were learning to be comfortable with each other.  But as the seasons changed, Buffy tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her that something about them had changed, as they settled into a steady routine.

They developed normal comfortable patterns, like most couples do.  Buffy didn't have to try as hard anymore because she'd found her guy, or so she thought.  Angel knew he had her and he didn't have to try anymore.  Like all men.  Buffy was his and that was that.  He could even get fat and let himself go if he wanted, but Angel was much to vain for that.  With good reason of course, seeing as he was quite the looker.  All American, football and apple pie good looks.  Every girl's dream.

Her focus shifted back to the road.  The sun was in her eyes.  She flipped down her visor and put on her sunglasses.  Buffy glanced in the rear-view mirror.  The same idiot was following her.  It was the black car she'd seen earlier on the side of the road.  _You'd think he'd be more careful since he was just pulled over?_ Buffy thought, puzzled.  _What an idiot.  _The car revved it's engine and moved to the next lane.  She looked over and saw _DeSoto_ written on the side.  Buffy saw a shock of white hair on the driver's side as the car passed by her in a blur.   _Ahh, so that's what it is -- a DeSoto_, Buffy thought again before moving her eyes back to the road.  _That has got to be the ugliest car ever._  

Buffy looked at the clock, 7:45 AM.  She'd spent 15 minutes in traffic to go less than one mile.  She had to motor if she was going to make it to work on time.  And again, she went back to Angel daydreaming once more.  Not the best habit, but what else was she going to think about?

Buffy woke up one day and realized that it wasn't Angel who changed.  She had changed.  She was afraid she had outgrown him, and she was scared.  She wasn't supposed to be bored by Angel, he was... Angel.  She couldn't call it quits now.  It wasn't right.  This was Angel.  The love of her life.  The one she was meant to be with.  By the time you hit your 20s you were supposed to find him.  Find that right guy.  The one Buffy had honestly given up on after that one night stand with Parker.

Then the proposal.

Of course they'd discussed it a little, but mostly it was out of the blue.  Marvelous diamond ring, marvelous Angel.  Down on one knee, telling her she was the girl for him.  "You're my best friend.  You complete me, Buffy.  Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"  She'd cried of course.  Said yes.  Blinded by the moment, blinded by her steady rock Angel, of course she said yes.  

So, they were going to make it official.  She was going to be Mrs. Angel Fitzpatrick.

That was about 3 months ago.  Her steady sweetie, Tom Brokaw at 6:30 pm , 2 or 3 wonderful kids, little white picket fence, room with a view.  Or so she thought.  Buffy was very good at convincing herself of anything.

It wasn't that she was never in love with Angel.  She definitely had been, perhaps for a fleeting moment or two.  Or maybe in love with the thought of being in love.  Or in love with the initial passion and romance.  Or something along those crazy lines.

Buffy snapped out of her daydream finally.  She was getting close to work.  She reached over to switch the radio station one last time.  Dave Matthews Band came blaring through, ironically with, "And you come crash into me."

Buffy looked up to see the hulking black DeSoto jump into her lane.  The idiot driver managed to cram his monstrosity into the almost nonexistent space between Buffy and the stoplight.  Buffy had thought she'd lost the DeSoto long ago, but then again there is was.  She honked her horn furiously and slammed on her brakes, swerving across the median into oncoming traffic for a moment before coming back into her lane, narrowly avoiding the black monstrosity in front of her.  The whole ordeal had taken less than 10 seconds, but Buffy felt like she had just taken 10 years off of her life.  She blared her horn in anger, but the driver of the DeSoto sped up and ran through a red light before she had a chance to follow the car through.

"Calm down, Buffy.   Easy now," she said to herself, thankful that she hadn't crashed her car.  She looked over into the passenger's seat to find her cup of coffee been jarred from the cupholder and had spilled all over her leather briefcase and the cream-colored velour seats.

"Fuck!" she said, hitting the steering wheel hard.  "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!  Bad move, bad move!" she said, shaking her hand out as the pain coursed through her body.

Right on cue, the faithful radio started singing, "It's been a bad day, please don't take a picture, please!" by REM.

  
"Shut up!" she said furiously, stabbing at the radio's OFF button.  She glanced at the clock, 7:55 AM.   She put her hand down into the pocket on her door, searching for her parking decal for the employee parking lot.  Her hands closed around something, but it was just a coffee card.  "Dammit!  Where did I put it?"  She couldn't take her eyes off the road, so her hand continued it's frantic search for the decal.  There was no guard to lift the gate, it was all controlled by an electronic sensor.  Without that parking pass she'd have to try and find a spot on the street.  Parallel parking, another one of the joys of downtown.

She was so late.  There was coffee all over her car.  And now she couldn't find her parking tag.  Great!  And Giles' needed her articles by 8 AM.  Looks like it just wasn't going to happen.  She drove down the street searching for a parking spot.  Nothing!  Of course what was she expecting on a busy LA morning.  She circled round the block and tried to find something again.  She saw a spot a block farther up on the right.  Buffy put her foot on the accelerator, hoping to make it to the spot before someone else took it.

She was so close, and then she saw the black DeSoto.  She hadn't noticed it before, but was horrified as she watched it pull back into the space.  She wasn't more than 5 feet from it.  Her mouth fell open in shock.  She was so mad.  She'd had her blinker on and rightfully that space was hers, or at least she wanted to feel like it was.  The driver stepped out, dressed completely in black from head to toe.  Black leather duster, black pants, black shirt, black combat boots, silver chain around his neck and silver rings on his fingers.  So this was the guy who didn't know how to drive.  Buffy took in his shockingly white-blonde hair, bleached of course, and ruggedly handsome face.  But she wasn't busy concentrating on his looks.

He spun around, duster trailing behind him, and inadvertently looked up, his bright blue eyes making contact with her green ones.  He must have seen the half-broken and half-very-pissed-that-was-my-parking-space-I'm-late-and-about-ready-to-bite-your-head-off-you-jerk expression on her face and was slightly taken aback.  He shrugged, mouthed an "I'm sorry" her way, looked both ways, and ran across the street.

A car behind her honked and she went through the light as it turned yellow, turning right at the next block, and pulling over in a no-parking zone.  _Where is that fucking decal?!_ she thought, looking down.  It was on the floor next to her foot.  She had no idea how it got there, and at the moment she didn't care.  Yanking out some napkins she wiped at her briefcase and mopped up what coffee she could.  She shifted into Drive, went around the block, back to the offices of the _LA Daily Tribune_.  Buffy's wheels squealed as she turned into the employee parking deck.  She flashed the parking tag at the sensor, waited impatiently for the gate to lift, sped inside and took the first spot she found.  8:15 AM, she saw in the clock.  She checked her face in the mirror, got out, locked the door and took off for the elevators.

She stepped off on the 4th floor, and almost ran into Giles as he rounded the corner.  He looked up, pleased to see her.  She gave him a weak smile, juggling her briefcase and struggling to put her keys away.

"Buffy!  Good morning!"  Giles greeted her.  She got into step with him as they walked towards his office.  They neared the doorway and she started to speak.

Buffy's words tumbled out in a rush, "Giles!  I'm so sorry I'm late!  I even left early, and I know you needed these articles early!  I'm so sorry!  Traffic got backed up because some idiot in an ugly black DeSoto got pulled over on the highway and everyone had to stop and look.  Then the same bleached blonde moron cut me off at Marsters Street!  I almost crashed!  I ended up spilling coffee all over my car and my briefcase, and almost lost my parking tag and thought I'd have to park on the street.  Then the same jerk cuts me off as I'm trying to parallel park.  He takes the last damn spot on First Street, looks at me and walks away.  Who the hell dies their hair white-ugly-I look like Billy Idol-blonde?  And he was wearing this long black leather coat.  What kind of a freak walks around in full black in LA?  Didn't he get the memo?  It's hot in California!  Argh!  I'm so mad, sorry Giles!  I think he walked in here, and I swear if I ever see that blonde ass again, I'll..."

"You'll what, luv?" came a voice from behind Buffy.  She turned to see the desk chair swivel around and watched almost in slow motion as the very bleach blonde ass with the black DeSoto, the long black leather coat, platinum 80s hair, and a very sexy smile stood up.  He had been there the whole time, and out of Buffy's view as she and Giles' had walked into his office.

"That's him!" Buffy said, pointing.  She felt like she was in fourth grade, tattling to the teacher, but she couldn't help it.  This Friday wasn't getting off to a good start.

"Oh my," said Giles, taking off his glasses to clean them.  "Your hair?  What ever did you do to it?"

"I thought it could use a change.  I didn't like the old look, it was too poncy and curly for me."

"You're going to teach like that?" Giles asked the blonde man.

"What, don't you like it?" said the stranger, pulling a face.  "It's better than your tattoo."

Buffy stared from Giles' face to that of the stranger.  "You know this guy?" Buffy said, very irate, looking in the direction of the annoyingly handsome bleach blonde stranger.

"He does inspire a particular feeling of familiarity and disappointment," Giles said, with a slight smile.

"Disappointment, eh?  Oh, God, how I must've hated you years ago!" the stranger laughed.  He turned to Buffy and said, "Yeah, I know him.  Rupert and I go way back," the bleached-blonde man said.

"I don't think I was talking to you," Buffy snapped.

"Quite honestly, I don't care if you were, pet.  And you know, it's not my fault if women can't drive," the stranger said, grinning, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth as he egged Buffy on.

"Spi--William!" Giles' sharp voice cut through their argument.

_Ahh so it has a name_, thought Buffy, really having no idea why she was arguing with a random stranger in the middle of Giles' office.

"Buffy, I'm sorry for William's complete lack of manners," Giles said, turning to his favorite employee.  "You see, this charming gentleman here is my son."

**A/N:**  Hi, me again!  So what famous season 6 quote did I used in here?  Did you recognize it?  What episode?  Wasn't that a brilliant scene the Buffy writer's thought up?  I laughed so hard, so I thought the quote was fitting here.  *Spuffy Love and Spike Shaped Cookies for all*


End file.
